


A dot Knope

by ebonyandunicorn



Category: Hamilton - Miranda, Parks and Recreation
Genre: Fluffy Ending, Friendship, Gen, Hamilton - Freeform, Parks and Recreation Department, SOUTHERN MOTHERFUCKIN' DEMOCRATIC-REPUBLICANS, Theatre
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-07-16
Packaged: 2018-07-24 18:55:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7519475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ebonyandunicorn/pseuds/ebonyandunicorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Oh please, Leslie,” Ben laughed, “if you were going to play anyone in that musical, it would be Hamilton himself for sure.”</p><p>In which Leslie Knope has an inimitable idea for the Pawnee Local Government Annual Talent Show.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A dot Knope

“Babe,” Leslie said suddenly, staring intently at Ben over the dining room table, “I have a serious problem.” 

“You put too much salgar in your spaghetti bolognese again?” Ben asked mildly, still reeling slightly from watching his beloved wife drown the pasta dish in the revolting sugar-salt-diabetes-inducing-mix she had lovingly christened salgar. Actually, he should have know from the action that something was on her mind – Leslie's salgar use was more or less proportional to her mental state. 

“There's no such thing as too much salgar,” Leslie replied automatically. “No, I've just been thinking about it for days now and I still haven't decided whether I am more like Elizabeth Schuyler Hamilton or Angelica Schuyler Church.” 

Ben, grinning, rolled his eyes. He should have known. Taking Leslie to see Hamilton may have been the greatest birthday present he had ever given, if her non-stop (no pun intended) discussion of it was anything to go by. It had been over six weeks since they had seen the show, and various songs from the soundtrack had become her driving-to-work anthem ( _History Has Its Eyes On You_ ), her late-night-writing motivation ( _Non-Stop_ ), and her evening lullaby ( _The Story of Tonight_  or _Stay Alive_ , depending on how the preceding day had been). 

“I mean,” Leslie went on, before he had time to offer any input, “the obvious answer is Angelica –” a recent addition to her collection of powerful women portraits – “because anyone who personally campaigns Thomas Jefferson to specifically include women in the Declaration of Independence is someone I want to be, but then I worry that I’m discounting Eliza's part in the narrative; I mean, Hamilton was nothing without her, really, and she did so much even after he died, and God knows she deserved better than what she got, and _the orphanage_ ," she finished in a tearful whisper, reaching for the salgar again. 

But to Ben, who deftly removed the condiment from her grasp, the answer was obvious. 

“Oh please, Leslie,” he laughed, “if you were going to play anyone in that musical, it would be Hamilton himself for sure. Think about it: he works himself into the ground, he makes the ultimate sacrifices for what he believes in, he doesn't take crap from anybody… If it wasn't for the whole Maria Reynolds thing, I’d say you’re practically the same person.” 

“Hey, I would _never_ –” Leslie began emphatically, pausing to meet his gaze earnestly over the table. A second later her eyes went wide and she gasped. “Ohmygod! Ben. You've just given me the best idea.”  

“About having an affair?” he asked in mock alarm. 

“No,” Leslie answered, beaming. “About this year's talent show.” 

-

Funnily enough, the rest of the team took a little convincing. 

“Leslie, I _love_ the enthusiasm!” Chris said eagerly, following Leslie's 8am announcement that the ten of them had just become thespians. “But I have _literally_ no idea what you are talking about.” 

“I thought we scrapped the talent show years ago when that old dude fell into the orchestra pit and died,” Tom said. 

“He didn't _die,_ ” Leslie corrected sharply. “He was just hospitalised briefly for bassoon-related injuries. The play was scrapped for money reasons… but those are gone now, the budget’s fine, and this is the greatest idea ever, so we are good to go! So without further ado… Roles! I myself will be starring as Alexander Hamilton, hooray!” She beamed around the room as though awaiting a storm of thunderous applause; Chris was the only one to respond in kind, albeit with a politely bemused expression. Ann gave an unconvincing “yay!” 

“Thank you, Ann, you glorious revolutionary,” said Leslie. “You will of course be playing my beautiful wife, Elizabeth Schuyler.” 

“Yay,” Ann repeated weakly. 

“My wonderful offstage husband, Ben,” Leslie continued, meeting his grimace with an unironic smile of joy, “will be performing as everybody’s favourite multifaceted antihero, Aaron Burr, sir!” 

“But I wanted to be the one who gets to shoot you,” April said murderously, glaring at her boss with all the venom she can muster. 

“Amen,” Ron murmured. The only reason he was still in the room was because Leslie was leaning against the door to prevent his escape. 

Determinedly undeterred, Leslie turned her attention on their grumpy intern. “April,” she announced brightly, “you’re in for a treat, because I have chosen to cast you as the empowered, intelligent, role-model-material Angelica Schuyler!” 

“Also she was a vampire,” April added. 

Sensing that she was losing them, Leslie decided to get the rest of the casting announcements out of the way as soon as possible. “Uh, okay. Andy, you’ll be John Laurens and Philip Hamilton; Chris, you’re playing Lafayette/Jefferson; Tom, you’ll be Hercules Mulligan/James Madison; Donna, you’ll be Peggy and Maria Reynolds; Jerry is King George because he only has to sing like one song; and Ron, you get to be George Washington.” 

They didn’t look thrilled. 

They would, Leslie vowed, grinning inwardly at the pun, _change their tune_ soon enough. 

-

Predictably, the first rehearsal was a disaster. 

“Haven't any of you practised those vocal exercises I forwarded to you from YouTube?” Leslie asked despairingly, staring around at her performers. “And don’t tell me it’s because you don’t know the words. The original Broadway cast recording has been our office album every day for the past two weeks.” 

Donna and Tom, both proud owners of new rhinestone-encrusted earplugs, glanced at each other and said nothing. 

“Leslie,” Jerry said from behind the piano, “maybe we should start with something a little simpler. How about we do some vocal warm-ups instead of jumping into the act one finale right off the bat?” 

“But it’s the best song for showcasing everyone’s talent!” Leslie protested. 

“All we’re showcasing right now is that this is a dumb idea,” April said. 

Leslie sighed. “Fiiiine. Everyone sing after me: _un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf…_ ” 

-

By their third rehearsal, Leslie was almost ready to give up. 

“Except that Alexander Hamilton NEVER gives up!” she yelled, slamming a formidable-looking stack of paper down onto the piano. “New rehearsal schedules!” she declared, beginning to pass them out. “From now on we’ll be practicing every second weekday after work for three hours, plus eight hours on Saturdays and four on Sunday afternoons. I wanted to do six, but the rehearsal space is booked out by the Reasonablists.” 

“Babe,” Ben said quietly as he accepted the schedule she passed him, “I know this thing is really important to you, but don’t you think 21 hours of rehearsal a week is a little, uh, relentless?” 

“Hamilton’s pace _is_ relentless!” Leslie shot back instantly. “And you should know that, Ben, it’s one of your lines.” 

“Leslie, I can’t rehearse for eight hours every Saturday,” Chris protested. “It’s my long run day.” 

“And I can’t do Sundays because it’s the day I sacrifice neighbourhood children to Satan,” April declared. 

“Well, April, I’m afraid you’ll just have to reschedule your demon rituals,” Leslie said. “Now let’s take it from the top! Ben?” 

The opening notes resounded through the room and Ben reluctantly began: 

“How does a bastard, orphan,   
Son of a whore and a Scotsman,   
Dropped in the middle of a forgotten spot   
In the Caribbean, by providence impoverished, in squalor,   
Grow up to be a hero and a scholar?” 

“Andy!” Leslie cued triumphantly. 

“The ten-dollar,” Andy began obediently,   
“Founding Father without a father   
Got a lot farther by working a lot harder,   
By being a lot smarter,   
By being a loud farter –” and he dissolved into giggles. 

“Andy!” Leslie reprimanded as the piano stopped. 

“Sorry, Leslie,” Andy giggled. “I just thought I’d try out some _improvisation._ ” 

Leslie groaned. “Guys! The talent show is in three weeks. We’ve hardly managed to sing through the whole thing once, let alone nail the choreography! Ugh, we’re never going to get this all done.” She slumped abruptly to the floor, hiding her face behind her rehearsal schedule. 

“Let’s take a five-minute break,” Ann said quickly, shooing the rest of the cast out of the room while she and Ben cautiously approached Leslie. “Leslie? Are you okay?” 

Without removing the paper from in front of her face, Leslie moaned, “Alexander Hamilton wrote fifty-one Federalist Papers and I can’t even coordinate a stupid talent show.” 

Ann and Ben exchanged glances. “Leslie,” Ben began hesitantly, “this is a really big show…” 

“Maybe we could try something simpler?” Ann suggested. “The IT Department’s sketch is only, like, five minutes.” 

“We are not the IT Department, Ann!” Leslie protested. “We’re better than that!” 

“It’s a two-and-a-half hour show, Leslie,” Ben said gently. “We’re good, but we’re not _that_ good.” 

“Could we just sing a few of the songs?” Ann asked. “Like… a preview, or something?” 

For a few moments there was silence as Leslie continued to sulk. Then, very suddenly, she slammed the rehearsal schedule down into her lap and stared Ann intently in the face. 

“Ann Perkins, you transcendent seahorse,” she breathed. “A medley. A Hamedley. A Medilton. _Yes._ You are a genius.” 

-

At 3am Ben woke from a dream and realised Leslie was not in bed. He was quiet for a moment, then, listening hard, heard the distinct sound of craft scissors snipping away fiercely in the living room. With a soft sigh, he reluctantly shuffled out of bed and went to see what on earth his wife was up to now. 

“Leslie, what are you doing?” he asked, bleary-eyed. 

She sat in the centre of the living room floor, surrounded by dozens of pieces of paper. Ben picked up the closest one and saw it was in fact two separate sheets taped together. The top one read ‘I go to France for more funds, I come back with –’ and the second one read ‘HERCULES MULLIGAN!’ 

“Is this your Hamedley?” he asked sleepily. 

“Yes,” she answered, not bothering to look up from the verse she was carefully cutting out. “It’s hard work slimming down art, you know. But it’s going well. I think I can get it to under an hour.” 

Ben bit his lip. “Are you… using snippets from every single song?” 

“What, you think I was just going to wantonly dispose of some of the greatest musical masterpieces in America?” Leslie asked disparagingly. “Of course I’m using every single song. Except _It’s Quiet Uptown_ ; that is four-and-a-half minutes of pure soul-destroying torture and I refuse to listen to it.” 

Ben, who was in fact more moved by _Dear Theodosia_ , sat on the carpet next to his wife and beheld the long trail of paper that sat half-assembled before her. “You know,” he said quietly, “maybe you could ask Jerry to make an arrangement for you? He’s pretty musically minded. I bet he could come up with something good.” 

Leslie stared at him. “Jerry,” she said with conviction, “is the Charles Lee of the Parks and Recreation Department.” 

-

All too soon, the day of the Recently Reinstituted Pawnee Local Government Annual Talent Show (Proudly Sponsored By Sweetums) had arrived. The entire Parks and Recreation Department stood backstage, nervous or apathetic as their natures dictated. Due to a last-minute costuming kerfuffle, their outfits had had to be individually sourced, which meant that the quality was variable. While Leslie looked every bit the professional Revolutionary War Reenactor, Tom was simply wearing his favourite cashmere two-piece, Ron hadn’t bothered to dress up at all, and April, true to her word, had come as a vampire, complete with fake blood smeared around her mouth. 

“Next up,” the MC announced, “the Parks and Recreation Department, with their performance of ‘Hamedley: An Abbreviated Musical’.” 

The cast walked onstage to polite applause. Leslie was beaming. April snarled at the front row. Ron stood so far stage right he was half-hidden behind the curtain. And then they began.  

BEN: How does a bastard, orphan, son of a whore 

LESLIE: If you stand for nothing, Burr, what’ll you fall for?   
Hey yo I’m just like my country, I’m young scrappy and hungry   
And I’m not throwing away my shot! 

ANDY: Raise an ass to the four of us… 

APRIL/DONNA/ANN: Angelica, Peggy, Eliza, work! 

RON: [silence, despite Leslie’s frantic cueing. He has, in fact, left the stage in protest. Exasperated, Leslie yanks off her Hamilton wig to reveal a Washington wig underneath. She had a sneaking suspicion this might happen.] 

LESLIE: Now I’m the model of a modern major-general   
When you hear the British cannons go 

ALL: Boom! 

ANN: Helpless…   
Look into your eyes and the sky’s the limit, I’m 

APRIL: — the oldest and the wittiest and _out for your blood!_  

CHRIS: Raise a glass to freedom! 

BEN: Life doesn’t discriminate   
Between the sinners and the saints   
It takes, and it takes, and it takes, and 

LESLIE: [in Hamilton wig] Every day: sir, entrust me with command! And every day   
[in Washington wig] No   
[in Hamilton wig] He dismisses me out of hand 

ANDY: The challenge: demand sexy-action 

BEN: Can we agree that duels are dumb and immature? 

ALL: Meet him inside, meet him inside, meet him inside, meet, meet him inside… 

LESLIE: [in Washington wig] Son   
[in Hamilton wig] Don’t call me son   
[in Washington wig] Son   
[in Hamilton wig] I’m not your son   
[in Washington wig] Son, I need you alive!   
[in Hamilton wig] Call me son one more time! 

ANN: You deserve a chance to meet your son… 

CHRIS: I go to France for more funds   
I come back with 

TOM: HERCULES MULLIGAN!   
A baller spying on the British government   
I’m fly as hell and single, ladies   
You know you wanna snuggle it! 

LESLIE: [in a stage whisper] Skip this one… Skip this one, guys! Move onto Yorktown, I’m sick of talking to myself. 

 _There is a brief moment of confusion while everyone sorts this out._  

CHRIS: Oh, yeah, right! M’sieur Hamilton 

LESLIE: M’sieur Lafayette 

ALL: The world turned upside down 

LESLIE & BEN: [smiling at each other] We’ll bleed and fight for you   
We’ll make it right for you   
And you’ll blow us all a… 

LESLIE: After the war I went back to New York! 

BEN: Man, the man is non-stop! 

CHRIS: What’d I miss?   
Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness 

ANN: Take a break   
Run away with us for the summer, let’s go upstate 

LESLIE: I hadn’t slept in a week, I was weak, I was awake   
Lord, show me how to say no to this 

BEN: I wanna be in the room where it happens   
The room where it happens, the room where it happens 

ANDY: Look! Santa’s in the paper 

LESLIE: Uh, do whatever you want, I’m super dead! 

TOM/CHRIS/BEN: SOUTHERN MOTHERFUCKIN’ DEMOCRATIC-REPUBLICANS! 

 _There is a brief silence while they wait for Leslie to sing._  

LESLIE: – oh, shoot! I forgot I’m still the President. 

JERRY: [from behind the piano] Do you want me to skip this one too? 

LESLIE: And miss my chance to quote Washington’s Farewell Address onstage in front of… thirty people? No way, Jerry.   
[takes a deep breath; holds her hand over her heart]   
Though, in reviewing the incidents of my administration, I am unconscious of intentional error, I am nevertheless too sensible of my defects not to think it probable that I may have committed many errors. I shall also carry with me the hope that my country will view them with indulgence; and that after forty-five years of my life dedicated to its service with an upright zeal, the faults of incompetent abilities will be consigned to oblivion, as I myself must soon be to the mansions of rest.  
I anticipate with pleasing expectation that retreat in which I promise myself to realise the sweet enjoyment of partaking, in the midst of my fellow-citizens, the benign influence of good laws under a free government, the ever-favourite object of my heart, and the happy reward, as I trust, of our mutual cares, labours, and dangers… one last time.  
[wipes away a tear]  
[pauses]  
[sighs]  
[takes another breath]  
Sit down, John, you fat motherfucker! 

TOM/CHRIS/BEN: You best go’n run back where you come from! 

LESLIE: I wrote my way out of hell  
I wrote my way to revolution 

TOM/CHRIS/BEN: You ever seen somebody ruin their own life? 

ANN: I hope that you… burn! 

ANDY: Ladies, I’m looking for a Mr George Eacker  
Ow! Ugh!  
[exaggeratedly mimes being shot; falls comically to the ground] 

ANN: Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf… 

CHRIS: Can we get back to politics 

TOM: Please? 

BEN & LESLIE: I have the honour to be your obedient servant 

LESLIE: A dot Ham 

BEN: A dot Burr 

LESLIE: Hey! Best of wives and best of women… 

ALL: Who lives, who dies, who tells your story? 

The elementary school theatre was quiet for a moment – enraptured, Leslie thought, by their incredible performance. She gestured enthusiastically to her castmates and grabbed the nearest two by their hands. “Bow!” she hissed. “Come on! Hold hands! Arms up!” They bowed – Leslie almost to the floor, Ann and Ben more reluctantly, Chris with an impressive flourish. Andy almost toppled over, while April maintained intense eye contact with a small, terrified-looking boy in the front row. 

Then the applause began. It was polite at best. Leslie could see Councilman Milton fast asleep in the crowd. “Why aren’t they cheering?” she whispered to Ben. “Why aren’t they jumping up and down in wonder?” 

“I think they’re just blown away by your talent,” he answered. He was attempting to death-stare anyone in the audience who wasn’t clapping, but considering he was wearing a hideous Burr-inspired, Knope-purchased white wig, it really wasn’t working very well. 

“And next up,” the MC announced, “the Department of Transportation, performing ‘I Like Big Trucks and I Cannot Lie’.” 

-

The office was empty the next day when Leslie arrived, and she was glad for it at first. Hamedley: An Abbreviated Musical had been a flop, and they all knew it. God, she was so embarrassed. Thank God she hadn’t ended up filming it and sending it to Lin-Manuel Miranda on Twitter after all. He would have laughed at her. 

After a few minutes, though, Leslie did start to wonder where everybody was. She hadn’t arrived an hour early as she usually did – where was the rest of her department? Maybe they were all faking sick so they didn’t have to face the embarrassment of coming into work after their terrible performance day. Even Ben hadn’t come in with her; he’d left a note on the kitchen table when she’d woken up. _Running errands before work this morning. See you at work. Love you._

“Oh my God, maybe he can’t stand to be seen with me,” Leslie muttered, yanking out her phone and frantically dialling his number. “Maybe he’s done something terrible. Maybe this is some Maria Reynolds shit. No, Leslie, you know better than that. I’m sure there’s a logical explanation… Ben, pick up your phone!” 

A second later there was a knock on the department door. She turned and there was Ben, smiling slightly as he raised a hand in greeting. 

“There you are! I was just trying to call you. Where have you been?” 

He smiled at her. “Come on. I want to show you something.” 

Confused and slightly concerned, she followed him down the corridor. He opened the door of a large, unused meeting room and ushered her inside. It was dark except for a single table lamp illuminating a desk in the centre of the room. 

“Sit down,” he urged her gently. 

Grinning in anticipation, she sat. 

Somewhere in the room, music began to play. She recognised it instantly. 

Then Ben cleared his throat and began to sing. 

“I was younger than you are now  
When I was given my first command  
I led my town straight into bankruptcy  
I witnessed its collapse firsthand  
I made every mistake  
And felt the shame rise in me  
And even now I lie awake  
Knowing history has its eyes… on me.” 

From around the room, a chorus began to sing. _Whoa, whoa, whoa…_ Leslie couldn’t tell in the dark, but she was quite certain she recognised Andy’s gruff voice, and Donna’s powerful alto, and maybe even… 

And then Ron emerged from the darkness, not quite singing, but not running offstage either. 

“Let me tell you what I wish I’d known,” he began.  
“When I was young and dreamed of glory  
You have no control  
Who lives, who dies, who tells your story.  
I know that we can win  
I know that greatness lies in you  
But remember from here on in  
History has its eyes on you.” 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa…” And then the lights flicked on, and the rest of them were singing, all sitting around the room, her department, her people, smiling at her, not angry, not embarrassed or ashamed, but singing to her, supporting her. 

“You guys!” Leslie said weakly, wiping her eyes. 

Ann flicked the music off and jumped up. “We know you felt bad about yesterday,” she said, approaching Leslie for a hug. “So we just wanted to let you know that it was great. We had fun.” 

“It was Ben’s idea,” April said. “I didn’t want to do it, but he blackmailed me. He’s vicious and terrible.” 

“You didn’t have to do this,” Leslie said, releasing Ann from an uncomfortably tight embrace to turn and smile at Ben. 

He smiled at her. “Of course I did. I have the honour to be your obedient servant.” 

“A dot Ham,” she sang. 

“A dot Burr,” he replied.


End file.
